The White Russian
by LoveofVelma
Summary: The White Russian went missing eighty-five years in the past. Now, Russia has asked the U. S. to return him. The F. B. I. turns to Mystery Inc. to look into the case, but there is a problem: Mystery Inc. broke up one year ago after the Luna Ghost. There are sure to be sparks flying as the gang is reunited. Can they put their problems aside and avert an international incident?
1. Chapter 1

The White Russian

Disclaimer: The usual, Scooby and related characters are copyrighted by smarter people than me. This is a work of fiction of which I garner no monies.

A/N: This is a fictional account of one piece of Romanov crown jewels that was lost in the October, 1917 Bolshevik revolution and subsequent deaths of Tzar Nicholas, his immediate family, a doctor and three servants in July 1918.

My thanks to my Beta, Fonzfan82 and my wife, Nurseangel, who helped with details on plot.

Chapter one: Prologue

_Russia, July, 1918_

Ivan was drunk, more drunk than he'd ever been in his life. They had drawn lots; he had nearly fainted when he looked down on the black pebble. He had went out and bought a bottle of Vodka. The order had been given and it was his duty to carry it out. He carried two pistols, one wouldn't be enough and he didn't trust his shaking hands to reload.

Tzar Nicholas and the immediate royal family had been sequestered in the basement room. Ivan stood in front of the closed door, his trembling hand on the handle for several long moments. Lifting the bottle, he emptied the bottle in two large gulps. Dropping the bottle, he opened the door.

Tzar Nicholas must have known what was about to happen, he rose from the old wooden chair; turning around, he faced his wife. The first shot hit the back of his head, before the body slumped to the floor five more shots rang out in quick succession amid screams of the remaining women. Ivan dropped the empty pistol when the hammer landed on an empty cylinder, immediately drawing the second pistol.

When the second pistol hit the floor the deafening reports of shots fired was the only sound. The Vodka had burned going down, on it's return trip, it was like a volcano. Ivan retched, his body reacting to the Vodka, doubling him over, spewing hot liquid over his shoes, the floor and the bodies, mixing with the blood. He turned and stumbled out of the room that had been turned into a tomb.

Ivan had no way of knowing that his shots had not reached all their targets. The Grand Duchess Anastasia remained alive, if unconscious. He also didn't know that he would be dead withing fifteen minutes from leaving the make shift tomb. Still drunk and unable to see through the tears from the emptying of the contents of his stomach, he misjudged a step and fell down a set of stairs. Or was pushed. The black deed had been completed; the only eye-witness lay dead with a broken neck.

Xxx

_Coolsville, eighty-five years later, six months after Mystery Inc. broke up._

A man, six feet tall in stocking feet, climbed out of the green dumpster and jumped to the hot asphalt. It was the fifth trash bin and he had nothing to show for it. Not a crumb. He couldn't remember when he'd had a hot meal...or a shower. The man thought he'd try later, maybe his luck would change. He picked up the half filled plastic bag and trudged wearily down the street.

A half hour later, the brown haired man unlocked the rear doors of a brightly painted van. He looked around, checking if he'd been followed or being watched. Living on the streets hadn't been easy; he had been robbed twice, beaten, but generally ignored. Climbing into the van, he dropped the bag in a corner and grabbed a plastic bottle of tepid water, downing the liquid in one sip. It was his last bottle. His stomach gurgled, wanting something more solid than warm water. He ignored the sounds, curling up in a fetal position on the floor. There was only one escape: sleep. But he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a restful sleep.

An imaginary world, a world of disturbing dreams with her, was better than this reality without her.

"Vel...ma..."

Xxx

_Coolsville, six moths later, one year after Mystery Inc. broke up_

The shaft of lightening lit up the room, followed by clap of thunder went unheeded by the young woman hunched over the computer screen. Raindrops appeared, racing their way down the window pane, breaking the glass into thousands of tiny rainbows. Focused on the form displayed, she ignored the last Winter's attempt to hold off Spring.

Another bright flash of lightening and the resulting thunder caught the woman's attention finally. She turned her head to the window then back to the screen, proofreading the last lines.

The petite woman hit 'send', leaned back, stretching tired and sore muscles in lower back and shoulders.

It was done, the last part of her application to NASA was on its way. Velma rubbed her abdomen at the rumbling sounds emitting from her stomach reminding her she hadn't eaten since dinner the previous evening. She had forgotten to eat...again. It was hard to get excited when you were cooking for one. "Quiet girl, I hear you."

In Coolsville, if you were hungry for something good and fast, say a delicious hamburger, or just wanted to hang out with friends, there was only one place to go: "The Malt shoppe". She hadn't been there since—The Split—as she had come to call it. She had split from Mystery Inc. because of Fred and not getting the recognition she deserved. In reality, she missed her friends and solving mysteries more than she'd dreamed possible. Even as she powered down the computer, Velma let her mind venture back to a happier time when she and her friends used the Malt Shoppe as an unofficial headquarters for Mystery Inc..

Catching herself checking her make-up and short brunette hair in the mirror, something she never did, she smiled; a hamburger wouldn't be the only reason for her trip. Maybe, just maybe _he_ would be there.

It would be nice to see _him _again. She decided to take the time to shower. Later, she dressed, adding a touch of rouge to give her cheeks some color and lastly, a little peach lipstick to define her lips.

With a dab of her favorite cologne behind each ear and at the base of her throat, she grabbed her coat and purse. With a smile playing wistfully at the corners of her mouth, she locked the house, and headed out with hamburgers and fries with _him_ dancing in her head.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The White Russian

Chapter two: Hamburgers and Shirley Temple

The rain had increased and Velma pulled her collar up to protect her neck, making a dash for the front entrance. The Malt Shoppe hadn't changed that much since her last trip, the night she had cut ties with Mystery Inc., fresh paint and new plastic over benches were the more obvious improvements. Her eyes drifted to the booth where she had spent many joyful hours.

"Hi, Tim." Velma said, taking a seat at the counter.

"Well, Velma. Haven't seen you around in a while. What will you have?" Tim answered back, surprised to see her. Tim had been surrogate father, confessor and supplier of good advice to different teens throughout the years.

"'The works', fries and iced tea." Tim had the knack of remembering orders without the need of writing them down. "Saves paper," was his stock answer when asked why he didn't write anything down.

"Got it. Be right up. Want your tea now?"

"Yes, thank you, Tim." Velma folded her arms, leaning on the counter. The sound of coins being dropped in the jukebox caught her attention and the young man. She watched as he made his selections,

waiting for the first song to begin.

"_Have I told you lately that I love you?_

_Have I told you there's no one above you?_

_Fill my heart with gladness, Ease my troubles,_

_That's what you do. *_

That had been their song, theme song to be more exact, but this couldn't be Shaggy. The man before her was as tall as him but this man was thin to the point of being gaunt. He looked more like a scarecrow with arms.

"_Oh, the morning sun in all its glory_

_greets the day with hope and comfort too_

_And you fill my life with laughter, you can make it better,_

_ease my troubles, that's what you do."_

How many times had he filled her dark days with comfort, laughter and eased her troubles. Yet, that night, he had tried but she hadn't listened. He may have heard Tim call her name, the last coins dropped and he turned, seeing her for the first time.

"Velma!" He cried out, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her off the floor, swinging her around before lowering her. "What are you doing here?"

'Hoping to see you' rose to her throat, but said, "I was in need of sustenance." She hadn't counted on the reaction she would have if she did see him.

"They have hamburgers, never heard of that sustenance you mentioned." His hand rested on her waist only inches from her hip. The noon crowd had left leaving them the only two customers, it would be slow until later that afternoon when school let out.

"Please get us a booth, Shaggy. I'll get my tea." She was surprised at his looks, not just the loss of weight but the vacant, sunken look in his eyes scared her more than she was willing to admit.

"Tim, add another 'works' and fries, please." She whispered conspiratorially to Tim. She picked up her drink and the first hamburger Tim gave her, walking to the booth selected by Shaggy.

"What have you been up to, Shaggy?" She sat the hamburger in front of him. "I'll take the next one."

"Odds and ends, not much of anything. Thanks." He dove into the burger.

"Don't eat too fast. And Scooby?"

"He's around somewhere." Not really an answer she noticed and decided to let it pass for the moment.

She reached out, covering his hand, knowing the answer to the next question before she asked it.

"Shaggy, where are you staying now?"

"Miss Dinkley, Mr. Rogers? We'd like a word." The man standing in front of them flashed a badge, "Agent Williams and Guthrie, F.B.I."

"What's this about Agent Williams?" Velma squeezed Shaggy's hand but refused to remove it.

"We would like to talk to you at the F.B.I. Headquarters tomorrow morning, eight o'clock. Everything will be explained then." Without waiting for a reply, the agents turned and walked away.

Velma turned her attention back to Shaggy, repeating her former question. "Where are you staying?"

"It hasn't been easy, Velma. We, Scoob and I, have been living on the streets or out of the Mystery Machine."

"Not any more, I've got an extra bedroom. You and Scooby are welcome...I'd like the company. It hasn't been easy for me either."

"I don't want your pity."

"Good, 'cause I'm not offering any. I can't count the number of times you've been there for me.

"And we've got that meeting with the F. B. I. Tomorrow morning. Shaggy, You don't think..."

"I refuse to say it!" He laughed, Velma hadn't realized how much she'd missed that laugh.

Xxx

_Coolsville, later that evening_

Daphne Blake, red headed heiress and freelance journalist, sipped from a small glass containing a reddish liquid. She sat in a booth, a small notebook laid out in front of her, a gold pen lay close by. 'Freelance' meant just that; not employed by any particular paper or magazine, you sent in an article and hoped for the best. If accepted, you got paid by the word, more words, more money. Not that she needed the money, she could buy and sell this establishment several times over without blinking an eye.

The Fox and Hound, wasn't exactly busy tonight which explained Daphne's attendance. She had been contacted by a local 'rag' to do a series of articles on upcoming entertainment. Eager to earn validation for her writing, she'd accepted the assignment.

"Play it again, Sam." Daphne lifted her empty glass. The bartender acknowledged her with a wave and went about making another Shirley Temple.

"Daphne?" A voice she knew well, perhaps too well, came from behind her. A voice that at one time could play her heart strings like a Master playing a violin.

"Fred? What are you doing here?" She thought she was over him but the Master was warming up, her heart rate speeding up. She indicated the chair beside her, perhaps she wasn't as far over him as she thought.

"I could ask you the same." He took the offered chair, "did you get the flowers I sent?"

"Yes, they were lovely, thank you. And I am now a working girl. You?"

"Vacation, heard they were trying new entertainment to improve business. Thought I'd check it out. Didn't expect to see you here but glad I did."

A girl stepped to the front, taking a microphone. She wasn't particularly pretty but nice looking. Her song was slow ballad, melancholy.

"Excuse me, would you be Mr. Jones?" The burly man indicated Fred, then turned to Daphne. "And Miss Blake?"

"Yes," Fred answered. "And you are?"

"Excuse me, I'm listening to the music." Daphne made a note, ignoring the man.

"Agents Williams and Guthrie, F.B. I.. We'd appreciate a word with you."

"Fred, what trouble have you gotten into, now?" Daphne continued to write in her notebook.

"Actually, Miss Blake, we need to speak to Mystery Inc.. Please be at F.B.I. Headquarters at eight o'clock in the morning."

"I wonder what that was all about?" Daphne closed her notebook.

"I have no idea. If you're finished, how about dinner?" Fred asked. She accepted.

_Meanwhile at Velma's home..._

Velma and shaggy knelt beside the tub giving a very reluctant Scooby a bath. Scooby had went ballistic when he saw Velma and Shaggy emerge from the car. "Relma! Raggy!"

"Get ready to be attacked." Shaggy had warned as Scooby bounded toward them.

After being nearly mauled, the three had left Shaggy's parents' home with promises to visit soon, Velma had insisted on a stop for new clothes for Shaggy and Scooby Snacks for Scooby.

Entering the house, she handed Shaggy a bag, "you shower first, then we'll give you know who a b-a-t-h."

It had proven easier said than done. Never one to bathe voluntarily, Scooby had fought hard, valiantly but in the end had been subdued. Shaggy and Velma had laughed together at his antics. Waiting for his

chance, Scooby jumped out of the tub between them, spraying water all over and knocking them back.

They lay on the floor, laughing. Shaggy rolled over, starting to rise then noticed Velma. The water had drenched her sweater; the wet material outlining her breasts. He lay back, her laughter fading, he cupped her chin, lifting it. A line was about to be crossed, one from which there could be no reprieve.

He kissed her lips, "Velma, I don't have a ring for your finger now, but will you marry me?"

she reached up, placing her hand behind his head, pulling him into a deep, passion filled kiss. "Yes! But think a moment, if you have in mind what I think you do, remember where we are. We're lying on a wet bathroom floor, every towel is soaked along with our clothes. May I suggest moving someplace more comfortable?"

'Laundry is going to be hell tomorrow.' Velma thought.

TBC

* Song: "Have I Told You Lately"

Performed by Rod Stewart

Year: 1989

Album: Avalon Sunset

Label: Mercury

Written by: Van Morrison


	3. Chapter 3

The White Russian

Chapter three: Meetings

_Russia, July, 1918_

Within minutes after Ivan had departed the makeshift tomb, the door opened and a man entered. The air was foul with the smell of death. The man followed the moans of one still alive, if near death. He lifted the weak form.

"Anna, my Anna." He held her close, crying.

"I knew you would come." The voice was feeble, barely above a whisper. "My white Russian...don't let them..." It must have taken the last fragments of her strength to speak; she died in her lover's arms.

The man held the dead girl in his arms for several moments before gently, lovingly picking her up. The white Russian carried the body from the tomb. He would select a secluded spot and bury her where no one would disturb her rest.

Two weeks later he entered America...and disappeared.

_Coolsville, 7:45 am, the next morning, F. B. I. Headquarters_

"Velma, I'm..." Shaggy wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Shaggy, don't you say you're sorry about last night." She whispered, "that was beyond my wildest dreams."

"I was going to say I was sorry we didn't have time for a cup of coffee this morning."

"It wasn't me that made us oversleep. Daphne isn't a morning person and the F.B.I. lives on coffee, horrible coffee I admit..."

"You think Fred and Daphne will be here?"

"They wouldn't ask half of Mystery Inc. to a meeting. Whatever they want, it will include all five of us. Speaking of us..." She rose on tiptoe to kiss his lips.

"Velma, we've refused to admit our love for too long. In there, I may not announce it but I will not deny it." He kissed the back of her hand.

At precisely eight o'clock they entered the room. A square table with a thin stack of paper positioned in front of four chairs dominated the room. Velma's statement about Daphne not being a morning person was proven by the disheveled red head sitting in one chair. Fred had chosen the chair to her right, looking only slightly better. Shaggy held Velma's chair for her before taking the last chair. The four turned their attention to Agents Williams and Guthrie.

"I'll not waste time, Russia has approached the State Department, State has asked for our assistance.

"It seems someone known as The White Russian disappeared some eighty-five years ago. Russia wants him back. What do you," he indicated the four gathered around the table, "know about the Russian revolution outside of what you learned in school?"

"Outside of history class, I don't know anything." Fred volunteered, "but why call us in?"

"That's not hard to figure, Fred." Velma answered, "State doesn't think the case, if there is a case, can be solved so they handed the hot potato to the F. B. I.. The F. B. I. thinks the same and doesn't want to be involved, therefore they called us in to fail. That way they can save their, and State's, face.

"My question is why do they want this White Russian back after eighty-five years?"

"We don't know, Miss Dinkley. That's one thing we'd like you four to find out. I'll be honest, after eighty-five years this White Russian is probably dead. I don't think you will find him but my superiors want to be sure before we go back to State.

"As far as your first statement, Miss Dinkley, it's a matter of jurisdiction. It's our 'hot potato' as you so elegantly put it."

"And now it's our 'hot potato'." Velma raised her eyebrows.

"Before you is a print out of everything we know, which is damn little. Your job is to find this White Russian or proof he's dead, and why are they so interested in getting him back after all this time?"

"Any leads you can share with us?" Fred asked.

"You might try contacting Professor Anya Gorkovsky. She teaches history, specializing in Russian history, at the local university. Good luck." Both agents left the room.

"Fred, if you say we have to split up, I'll slap you so hard your ears will ring for a week." Daphne stood up, collecting the printouts. "I'm going to the morgue."

"Let's meet at Velma's house for dinner. We can see what we find out. And I have a surprise for all of you." Shaggy stood, picking up the papers. "Why does it have to be a morgue?"

Fred also rose, "I'll try contacting the Professor."

"Velma," Daphne ventured after Fred and Shaggy had left, "are you and Shaggy...you know...?"

"We haven't set a date but yes, we are." Velma blushed, not at the question but the memory of the night before. She had expected maybe thirty minutes, what she got was an unhurried lesson in the meaning of love making. She had known there would be pain but it hadn't been as bad as anticipated. He had stopped, kissing her tears away until she was at ease before continuing his affectionate ministrations. From nervous lifting of her sweater to calling out his name with the final release to holding her in his arms later, the whole experience had been about her wants and desires.

"No need to blush, Velma, I'm very happy for you both."

"You will be my maid of honor won't you? You still love him?"

"Shaggy? No, he's not my type..." Daphne laughed, "Fred, on the other hand, will always be my one and only. I just wish he'd get the hint."

"Maybe it's time to move past hinting. Just hit him over the head with a club and drag him back to your cave."

"But Velma, I don't have a club...or a cave. Who else would be your maid of honor? Any idea what Shaggy meant about a surprise?"

"None, I guess we'll have to wait until tonight to see."

Xxx

_University, 9:00 am_

Fred had circled the University parking lot twice before locating a parking space. A few questions later found him walking down a hall towards the Professor's office. The paper displayed behind a plastic cover beside the door announced that the Professor took lunch between 12:30 and 1:30 with student hours from 1:30 till 2:30. That gave him a little over three hours to kill.

It had been years since he had traversed these halls but the Student Union should still be in the same place. It wasn't a good place to study but excellent stopover for a cup of coffee or tea if you were going to or coming from class. Or if you wanted to catch up on the latest gossip. After ordering a cup of coffee and selecting an out of the way table, Fred settled in to think about the morning meeting.

Granted, he hadn't seen Shag or Velma for a year but the change in Velma was immediately apparent: She had a glow about her that he'd never seen before. Shaggy holding her chair, though unusual, hadn't caused his eyebrows to raise...it was his near caress of her hair that did that. Taken separately, the incidents didn't mean that much but add them together...Fred smiled...it might mean shopping for a wedding gift.

He thought back, Velma's comment about saving face had crossed his mind even before she mentioned it. He shook his head, nothing about this case made sense...unless the FBI didn't want the case solved. But then, Why?

Several cups of coffee and with more questions than answers, Fred sauntered out, heading for the Professor's office.

"Enter." Came the answer to his knock. He found the Professor sitting behind a paper littered desk; a half eaten sandwich and carton of milk sat to the side. She looked up, examining the new arrival.

"I'm sorry to disturb your lunch, Professor. I was hoping you might be able to help me." She was blonde, blue eyed, and cute.

"You aren't one of my students. Who are you?" Her full red lips didn't smile.

"A student of history," Fred took the chair opposite her desk. "Fred Jones. I'm interested in Russian history. The White Russian to be exact."

"It's a drink served everywhere liquor is supplied or you can make your own if you have the ingredients." Still no smile passed those ruby lips.

"I don't drink except on special occasions, sorry. I am interested in a person called The White Russian."

"Mr. Jones, you look to be an intelligent person, why are you curious about that bedtime story?"

"You positive it is only a bedtime story? Most stories like that have a kernel of truth?"

"My grandpapa told me that story many times. I'd usually fall asleep before he finished. It had all the parts for a bedtime story, a Grand Duchess, hero and tragedy. Real Romeo, Juliet stuff."

"Excuse my curiosity, Anya, Anastasia, any connection?"

"Anastasia was my namesake. I was told my grandpapa insisted on naming me."

"Well, thanks for the help anyway. Sorry again for taking time from you lunch. Perhaps I could repay you with dinner?"

The Professor's lips sported a smile for the first time, she leaned back, studying the strange man before her, "I usually don't date strange men but you do intrigue me. Perhaps we could exchange bedtime stories."

"Until tonight then. Say, seven?" He perused the slip of paper where she had written her address and phone number.

"Don't be late."

As Fred closed the door, Fred had learned several things. First, that had been real fear that had skittered over her eyes when he mentioned the white Russian. She was definitely terrified of something.

The other thing he was sure of was the Professor had lied through her pretty white teeth. Perhaps a pleasant dinner would give him the opportunity to find out what was terrorizing her.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

The White Russian

Chapter four: Strangers In A Strange Land

_Somewhere, 10:30 am_

The man sitting at the old worn desk had one job: answer the phone that sat on the desk whenever it rang. Only a few people had the number. He worked a twelve hour shift, replaced by another man (once it had been a woman). It was boring work but he was paid well, answer the phone, take the message, pass the message to his 'boss'. The job involved a lot of waiting; like now. The phone rang...

"Go."

"They've accepted. Jones visited a Professor Anya Gorkovsky at the University. Any new orders?"

"Call back in an hour, I'll have an answer for you." He hung up, dialed a number.

"Sir, they've accepted, Jones visited a Professor Anya Gorkovsky at the local university. Any new orders?"

One hour later the phone rang... "No new orders, same as always for now. Follow, observe, report but don't interfere...for now."

The man hung up, picked up a paperback book and waited for the next call.

_University, 2:00 pm, Professor Anya Gorkovsky's office_

Anya tapped a pencil against her teeth, half listening to the student sitting across her desk from her. The man's visit had disturbed her more than even she wanted to admit. No one had mentioned the White Russian in many years. Not enough years to satisfy Anya. He had been good looking, blonde, blue eyed like herself; above all, she hadn't lied when she told him he intrigued her. Not many men intrigued her. That had been the main reason why she had accepted his invitation to dinner.

Perhaps the fish wouldn't be the only thing being grilled tonight. She had to know what this Fred Jones knew and why his interest in the White Russian.

_Velma's home, 2:00 pm_

Velma had just installed a new search engine, one that would look beyond the usual hits. She glanced at her watch for the forth time in fifteen minutes. Shaggy should have been back by now. He'd left as soon as they had returned from FBI headquarters. He'd held her close, nuzzling her neck that left her wanting more. He had opened a door she wanted to explore, day by day.

"If I am going to arrange that surprise, I have to go out. I'll be back in time for dinner, promise. Hamburgers and hot dogs be okay?"

Anything would be fine with her. She hoped the surprise would involve a ring, this was to be their anniversary dinner after all; but he had indicated it was for all of them.

She hadn't wanted him to leave but he had slipped away. She entered the required parameters and hit 'search'. The forth hit yielded the information she desired.

_Later that same day..._

Hearing the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway, Velma powered down the computer. Rushing outside she saw Shaggy emerge from a van that looked like the old Mystery Machine but this one sported a new paint job. She jumped into his arms, showering kisses over his face.

"I've missed you."

"Come see my surprise." Like a boy with a new toy, he opened the back of the van. "Let's say I had a lot of time on my hands and the barter system is alive and well."

To say Velma was amazed at the transformation of this new Mystery Machine would be a major understatement. As Shaggy showed her the improvements he had made, from two bench seats that folded down into beds, to a complete kitchen (if small) minus a dishwasher, Velma's astonishment increased.

"I think we have some time before Fred and Daphne get here." Velma lifted his T-shirt, pushing it over his head. "...Seems a shame not to try one of the beds...see how comfortable it is."

"If we're going to make our engagement official tonight, I'd like you to wear this." He had extracted a velvet box from his pocket; taking the ring from the box, he placed it on her finger.

"Jinkies! It's so beautiful, Shaggy!"

They found the bed very comfortable indeed.

Xxx

Later, after Velma and Shaggy had taken the time to freshen up...

Fred and Daphne had arrived almost simultaneously to find Shaggy working over the grill while Velma was preparing the veggies to be added to the hamburgers.

"Better get them while they're hot and before Scooby gets to them." Shaggy laughed.

Fred and Daphne had split up, Fred grabbing a plate to collect the cooked meat while Daphne had stayed inside, assisting Velma.

"I'm not shocked or surprised at this development." Daphne admired Velma's new adornment on her finger. "But this is sudden isn't it?"

"Not really, Daphne," Velma set cut tomatoes and onions on the table. "When we met there was the usual awkwardness while we caught up, you know, the usual 'where have you been', etc."

"And..." Daphne added lettuce and pickles to the table.

"After that, it was like we'd never parted. I'm sure you and Fred felt the same when you reunited. Anyway, this is a big house for one person and it's hard to cook for one. I got into the habit of cooking for a week, then freezing the leftovers. I had a spare bedroom and asked Shaggy if he and Scooby would like to move in. It was surprising when he asked me to marry him, true, but it felt right, like an extension of our friendship. I said 'yes' and the rest is history as they say."

"Have you two set a date?" Fred asked, coming in with Shaggy who went to the window.

"Not an exact date," Velma answered, "I imagine it'll be sometime after this mystery is solved. There's a lot of planning to do yet."

Shaggy had gone back into the kitchen, taking a magnetized shopping list pad from the refrigerator before joining his friends at the table. He scribbled a note, pushing it in front of Velma.

'H_as anyone come to the house while I was gone?' _she read. 'N_o, no one. Only the mailman and he didn't come inside. Why?' _she wrote, pushing it back.

"The house is being watched," he explained. "If no one came inside, we can assume the house isn't bugged. I was followed after I left this morning. Any of you feel followed or watched?"

"I wasn't sure, but I felt like it." Fred volunteered.

"I may have, I was so involved in the paper's morgue, I wasn't paying attention." Daphne added, "Who would be watching the house, or us?"

"Take your pick from the alphabet soup." Shaggy replied, "FBI, CIA, NSA...KBG."

"But why?" Daphne wondered.

"That's easy, Daphne," Velma explained, "whoever is following us wants the same thing we do: The White Russian. They're letting us do the leg work..."

"And what pretty legs you have, Vel." Shaggy smiled, "Any one find any clues?"

"Something or someone has the Professor terrified. I have a date with her tonight, maybe I can find out what or who." Fred went first.

"Our morgue has an extensive library going back to that time frame." Daphne went next, "Anastasia loved horses and rode regularly until she had an accident, she fell of her horse. The stableman's son helped her get over the fear of horses and got her riding again. His name was Nikolai Dragomirov, but get this, she called him her white Russian."

"And I found there were rumors floating through the palace that their friendship went beyond just helping her get over her fear. He was a year older and they were very discreet but the rumors were that they became lovers." Velma shared what she'd found, "I couldn't find anything on him after Anastasia was supposedly murdered."

"Guys," Shaggy finished, "we have one chance to find this White Russian and solve the case. Mystery Inc. has to become 'the gang' again; we can't do it working separately.

"Fred, keep your date with the Professor, it'll look suspicious if you don't.

"I think we all should stay here tonight. I am about to suggest something Mystery Inc. has never done before. After tonight, we go off the grid."

"Someone will have to sleep on the sofa." Velma smirked, "unless you two want to share the spare room."

Daphne drew back, hitting Fred on the shoulder. "What was that for, Daphne?"

"I don't have a club!"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

The White Russian

Chapter five: A Table For Three

_Velma's spare room, later that same night_

Fred was having a problem tying his ascot in preparation for his date with the Professor. The problem wasn't with the ascot or the Professor; the problem was the reflection that kept distracting him. In frustration, he started over on the ascot...again. The reflection of Daphne dressed in a violet sheer peignoir wasn't helping his concentration. The gown came to mid thigh, the 'robe', left open, was only slightly longer. Neither was that smile that left him unable to think clearly and weak in the knees.

Daphne had always accepted her femininity but had never taken advantage of it...until now. She had picked this particular outfit with care; Velma had suggested hitting him over the head with a club and this attire was fashioned to do just that. Designed by a woman for a woman, it didn't whisper, "This is what I have to offer." It screamed. He'd get the hint unless he was blind or dead; Daphne didn't think he was either.

"Let me help or you'll never be ready." She walked toward him and Fred felt his knees begin to shake.

"You know this dinner is strictly business?" She smiled, tying the ascot in one try.

"Strictly business, Daphne." His arms circled her waist, drawing her body flush with his. She had been right, he wasn't dead.

"You know that, I know that, I only hope the Professor knows it." Her body was soft, warm against his, her lips inviting, full of pent up passion.

"You better go." Her voice, a mere whisper in his ear, "Freddie, I'll be waiting when you get back."

Xxx

It was a few minutes till seven when Fred eased to a stop in front of the address the Professor had given him. He reflected on Daphne's assertive behavior; not that he minded finding her in such attire. And the intriguing proposal that she would be waiting. 'Business before pleasure, old man.' Fred thought as he knocked on the door.

The Professor didn't look like a professor when she opened the door. Black dress slacks and crisp white blouse had replaced the teacher's business suit she had been wearing earlier. "Come in, I just need to get my wrap."

"I hope you don't mind," she picked up a shawl, handing it to him. He held it, letting it settle on her shoulders. "I like a nice restaurant nearby, it's small but has excellent seafood."

"Perfectly alright. I wasn't sure what food you would like."

"Shall we go, Fred? You don't mind me calling you Fred do you?"

"Not at all, if I may call you Anya. You call me Mr. Jones and I'll be looking for my father."

"You may, and if you're wondering, it's Mrs. but don't worry, the divorce was by mutual contempt."

The restaurant was small but nicely furnished, the greeter welcomed them like old friends, leading the duo over thick carpeting to their table. "Your waiter will be with you soon. May I start you off with drinks?"

"Hot tea for me. They brew their own tea if you'd prefer iced tea, Fred." He took her wrap, holding her chair.

"Iced tea sounds good." He replied with a smile, taking the opposite chair.

"The trout is divine." She offered, glancing over the menu at him. Her eyes were bright, expressive. 'She could speak volumes with those eyes,' Fred thought, 'for the right man.' He wouldn't ruin the evening with telling her they had been followed from her house. He had spotted the black sedan as soon as they had made the first turn.

"Then trout it is." He laid the menu to the side. "Do you come here often?"

"I may be a Professor but I still have to be discreet in my social life. I like this place because it's off the beaten track. I come here as often as I can; sometimes with friends, sometimes alone."

Their teas were served and food orders taken. When the waiter had gone, Anya continued.

"I must admit to curiosity getting the better of me. I wanted to know a little about the man I was dating tonight so I called a few friends. You're quite well known, from football hero to leader of Mystery Inc.. Is that what you're doing now? Mystery Inc. is trying to solve the mystery of the White Russian?"

"To mysteries." Fred held up the iced tea in a salute.

"And bed time stories." Anya added.

"This is more a personal matter," Fred continued. "Mystery Inc. split a year ago. I was contacted to work as a freelance insurance investigator. I found myself between jobs and decided to take a much needed vacation and here I am."

The trout was served and both sampled the food in a companionable silence until Anya asked...,

"Do you enjoy solving these mysteries you are sent on? What are you looking for...the truth?"

"Yes, I do. The truth? I suppose so, it usually comes out in the end. You were right, the fish is delicious."

"The truth may be hard to find in this mystery. It's hidden under eight-five years of tradition, old wives tales, rumors...and bed time stories."

"But it's there. I'm looking for the unusual, something someone thinks isn't important but leads to the truth."

"And you think I might know something...unusual?"

"That's why I contacted you in the first place. Anything you could add to the history books would help. I heard Anastasia may have had a discreet love affair. Maybe she had a journal, old love letters; I wouldn't expect her to put down where this White Russian is hidden but maybe it would contain a clue."

Anya laughed, "you don't have a clue do you, about the Russian tzars? Anastasia was a Grand Duchess, do you know what that title means?

"It means, on the ladder of Royal Princesses, she was on the top rung. Her life was an open book as they say, no, there could be no journal, no Princess diary and certainly no love letters. There was too much danger that such a book might be found and read.

"Come to think about it, my Grandpapa told me a bed time story several times, I think it was his favorite. That Anastasia did take a lover but he wasn't royalty so their affair had to remain a secret. They had a confidant both could trust. This confidant carried messages between the two lovers. Example, Anastasia might send a coded message that read, "I want to go riding tomorrow at 10."

"Now, Fred, what is the truth? Did she have a lover, did the message mean she really wanted to go riding at 10 am or that she would meet him at 10 pm, or was the time the code, add or subtract an hour or two? What's the truth? We'll never know because if there were messages, they were immediately destroyed after delivery. She did spend a lot of time at the stables, before and after the accident."

"Following the riding part," Fred mussed, "I'd have to see the message or better, several messages. The code would be in the wording or more likely a mark that would tell if the message was straight or coded. If her lover was in the stables, I doubt it would be the head man; he would be too old for her unless she liked older men; she was only seventeen. No, if she had a lover, he'd be one of the stable boys, most likely the head man's son."

"There is this, something that isn't in the books." Anya smiled, "Anastasia was called 'the imp' because she liked playing harmless practical jokes. Could her lover be one of her jokes? No one knows how she did it, but she thought a good joke would be to borrow a piece of the crown jewels. She chose her favorite, a sapphire and diamond bracelet she called the White Russian because it reminded her of a man. She was wearing the bracelet the day she was killed. Her body wasn't found when the bodies were removed. What happened to her body and the bracelet? Are you looking for her lover, her White Russian or the bracelet she called the White Russian?

"One last thing, Fred. I don't think you'll find either her lover or the bracelet. Her lover is probably dead, he'd be close to one-hundred years old now. The bracelet has probably been broken up and the jewels sold separately. I am guessing here, she threw up her arm in a defensive action, the first bullet fired at her glanced off the bracelet, damaging it beyond repair.

"I think she did have a lover and he removed her body between her being killed and the bodies were removed. He could have taken the bracelet before he buried her; neither her body or the bracelet has ever been found. *

"I can see where you make an excellent detective, you've let me do most of the talking but hopefully I've given you something to think about.

"And now, I have a question for you, Fred. Who is she? Do you love her? You've been an excellent dinner companion but she's been on your mind all evening. It's like we're sitting at a table for three.

"Please, I'm feeling tired and have a long day ahead of me. Would you mind if we called it an evening?"

TBC

A/N * In August 2007 two bodies were found in an unmarked grave. DNA tests proved the bodies were Anastasia and her younger brother Alexei. The sapphire and diamond bracelet was not in the shallow grave and its whereabouts remain a mystery.


	6. Chapter 6

The White Russian

Chapter six: Watchers

Fred hadn't expected a good night kiss or a nightcap, so he accepted the peck on the cheek. She had been right, Daphne had been on his mind all night. And she would be waiting.

"Go to her, Fred." She whispered softly in his ear. "Marry her. You'll never be truly happy till you do."

They had said the usual good nights and he had waited until she was safely inside before he turned on his heel and left. He expected and spotted the tail immediately after the first block. He planned on taking them on a scenic route around the quiet city but then suddenly the tail had made a 'U' turn, heading back the way they had come.

Red flags went up in Fred's mind...there was only one explanation for their actions. This wasn't the tail that had followed he and Anya to the restaurant; that 'U' turn was amateurish and told him they were observing Anya, not him. The red flags turned to flashing sirens.

Fred had learned over the years to trust his gut instincts and this was no exception. Even as he threw the car into a shrieking 'U' turn of his own he knew there would be a lot of explaining to do if he was wrong. He slowed as he passed the shiny black sedan; it was empty as he had feared.

Approaching the door, any thought of apologies was negated by a male scream of pain. He began to run, hoping the door wouldn't hold.

The door splintered upon impact to reveal Anya struggling with two men. Before either could react Fred leaped forward, pulling the nearest man away; using surprise as an advantage, he flung the man toward the closest wall. A sickening _thud _was heard as the man's head connected with the solid partition, the man crumbling in a heap of arms and legs. One down, Fred turned his attention to Anya's second assailant.

He held her as a shield, one arm around her neck, the other gripping her arm. Fred moved threateningly toward the two. Anya shoved her bottom back, hard, against her attacker. He bent over, grasping for air; Anya twisted away, tearing buttons in the process.

Fred's blows were unschooled, learned on the playground, but they were effective in driving the man backward. Anya had moved aside, grabbing a vase and holding it menacingly.

Catching his breath, the man made Fred back off but Anya was ready and brought the vase down on the aggressor's head. His eyes rolled back, only the whites showing.

"That was plan 'B'. Come on, Anya, unless you want to share bed time stories with these two."

"My blouse!" Anya tried to cover a deep valley of cleavage, soft, pale skin and white bra.

"You've just been attacked by two man and you're worried about me seeing your bra?"

"It's not my bra I'm concerned about!"

"Make it quick then. Don't take time to change, I don't want a second dance with these guys."

Seconds later he handed her a coat he'd removed from one of the men when she returned. He took her hand and they rushed toward the ruined door.

Xxx

Fred kept checking the rear view mirror for the tail he knew would be coming while Anya used the coat as protection against prying eyes as she changed her blouse. "What made you come back, Fred?"

"Women have their intuition, men have hunches. I guess it's close to the same thing." He activated the car phone, hitting a speed dial number. A very sleepy sounding voice answered.

"Shaggy, you awake?"

"I am now, what's up?"

"Listen closely, 30 slot right, z post, Alpha button, counter. Got it?"

"Got it. We'll be ready."

"Better have Velma wake Daphne, you might get a surprise if you try."

Shaggy snickered then hung up. The coded message was plain to Shaggy, that had been the play Fred called that ended his career as quarterback, blowing out his knee when a runaway train disguised as a linebacker had hit Fred. He had gotten the pass off, hitting the 'Alpha' receiver for a touchdown that won the game. Fred had spent the night in the hospital while the rest of the team celebrated the win.

It also told Shaggy a few other things on a more personal level. Fred was in trouble, he was bringing company, probably the Professor, which wasn't going to go over well with Daphne. "Velma...wake up...we have a lot of work to do."

"What was that about?" Anya threw the coat and torn blouse into the back seat, tucking her new blouse into her slacks.

"A message to my friends, they'll be waiting for us."

"Am I correct that it's Daphne that shared our dinner table?" She smiled, leaning back in her seat.

"I owe you an apology for that, Anya, but yes."

"No apology necessary. I'm actually a little jealous of her. Fred, a confession, I was going to invite you in for a nightcap but I'm not into sharing, if you get my drift. I wish I could effect a man like she has you. She must be quite a woman."

"Anya, that was the 'B' team that attacked you, any idea as to why?"

"None, I have no idea who they were or why their interest in me."

"We've got company. I think the 'A' team has taken the field." Fred dropped a gear, making a left turn that pushed Anya against the door.

Xxx

It was after midnight when they pulled into the carport at Velma's house and exited the car. They found the gang waiting.

"Anya, this is the gang." Fred made a sweeping gesture including everyone. "I wish we had time to visit but Anya was attacked and it won't take them long to figure out where we are."

"We're ready, Fred. We can leave anytime."

"Not quite, Shaggy dear. I have one more thing to do." Velma started toward the house.

"If you have in mind what I think you do, I may have an idea." Anya offered. "I'll need my blouse and that coat from the car, Fred."

'Blouse? Coat? Just what had Fred and that woman been up to after dinner?' Daphne stuck her lower lip in a full blown pout. Even at this distance she could tell the blouse had been ripped open—and she was rather pretty, if a bit older than Fred.

"I've got an old laptop set up, any unauthorized password and it shuts down." Velma explained once they were inside. "Anyone trying to enter the house with anything except a key will get a nasty surprise."

"I like the way this lady thinks." Velma announced when she and Anya rejoined the group.

"Are we ready now?" Fred asked. "It's time we disappeared. What were you and Anya up to, Velma?"

"You aren't the only one that can set a trap, remember, Fred?"

Xxx

It was three am when two men, dressed totally in black, approached the back door of the house. All was quiet as one man stood guard while the other took a set of burglar tools from his pocket, kneeling in front of the door. In less than a minute the door swung open and a silent alarm was received at the local police station.

The two split up, one doing a quick reconnaissance through the house, the other heading to the room used as a study.

"No one here, wonder where they went?" The one reported crisply. Both men looked at the laptop.

"Maybe that will tell us." The other sat at the desk, powering up the computer. "We've got their birth-dates and most people make the mistake of using that date as a password."

They were surprised when a virtual Velma appeared on the screen.

"You have entered an incorrect password. Self destruct sequence initiated." A countdown clock appeared starting at five minutes.

"Police!" an authoritative male voice yelled behind the two men. They turned to see two officers with drawn guns pointed at them. "On your knees, hands on top of your heads."

"Oh, crap!" One man muttered as he knelt on his knees, hands rising to cover his thinning hair.

"Chief!" A third officer came around the corner. "Look at what I found in one of the bedrooms."

"Where did you find my coat?" One man said in surprise then realized his mistake.

"Well, gentlemen, what do you say to a torn blouse and a gentleman's coat which you, sir, just identified as belonging to you. I am a friend of Velma Dinkley who owns this house. You're under arrest.

"Cuff 'em and book 'em Dan-no. Breaking and entering, trespassing...and kidnapping.

"My name isn't Dan-no, chief." One of the officers responded as he put handcuffs on the first man.

"I know that, I just like saying it."

The only sound was the virtual Velma's voice. "Three minutes, two minutes, fifty nine seconds, two minutes, fifty eight seconds...

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The White Russian

Chapter seven:

_Coolsville, 9:00 am, a certain office in a certain office building_

The lone man sat playing solitaire with an old deck of cards on a battered desk. The only thing on the desk, other than the cards was a black phone that hadn't rang since the man came on duty at six o'clock.

He went through the cards, unable to make a play. Another game lost; it was a good thing he wasn't playing in Vegas or he'd be down to pawning his shirt and shoes. Gathering the worn cards up he began to shuffle once more. If that phone didn't ring soon he'd be ready for the looney bin.

As if on cue, the phone rang, startling the man into inactivity. The second ring brought him out of the trance.

"Go."

"Sorry, haven't been able to report sooner. It's a mad house around here." The caller didn't explain where 'here' was.

"Cut the small talk and make your report." Actually the man would love to chat but that wasn't allowed.

He was there to field and pass on the operator's reports to...well, truthfully he didn't know and didn't want to know. In this business, the less you knew, the better off you were.

"Two of our guys were picked up by the police last night. They're in jail now. Get this, they're being charged with kidnapping the Dinkley broad along with a long list of other crimes. The kidnapping hold water because we had nothing to do with her and her groupies disappearance."

"You sure of this, the Dinkley gang has disappeared?"

"Lock, stock and barrel. Sometime during the night; we were keeping tabs on Jones and the Professor and didn't know about the disappearance until we heard about the arrests."

"You know the routine, call back in an hour for further orders. Somebody isn't going to be happy about this turn of events."

"Tell me about it. I'm thinking of disappearing myself."

"Stay put. Don't go doing something stupid."

_One hour later_

"Go!" He answered on the first ring this time.

"New orders?"

"The two men have been cut loose...same thing will happen to you if you cut and run. Find Dinkley group. Observe but do not interfere. Report when you have them under surveillance."

Xxx

_Coolsville Police Department, Interrogation room 3, 10:00 am_

The police chief himself came into the room. He carried a portable tape recorder and a manila envelope.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I hope you spent a comfortable night and enjoyed your breakfast. You've been read your Miranda rights and you will be given an opportunity to one phone call after we're through here. You don't mind if I record our conversation do you?" Both men nodded in the affirmative.

After turning on the recorder and stating his rank, name, date and time he asked the men if they were agreeing to this conversation of their own volition and had not been coerced in any way? Again the men nodded in agreement.

"Normally, gentlemen, you would be interrogated separately but this is an unusual case." He upended the envelope, two black wallets dropped to the desk. "It's unusual in that we've got two FBI agents caught red handed breaking and entering into a private citizens home. A citizen, I might add, that I know personally and have a lot of respect for.

"Now, gentlemen, it says right here that if found these badges are to be returned post haste to Federal Building, Washington, D. C. and that's exactly what I am going to do unless I get some answers.

"First, so you'll know where you stand when you talk to your lawyer, in this state, kidnapping carries a life sentence without parole. That's a long time, gentlemen. I'm willing to drop the kidnapping charge if you tell me where Miss Dinkley is and she hasn't been harmed."

"Oh, one last thing then you can make your calls. One of these badges is for an agent Washington. Which one of you is Agent Washington?"

"I am, Chief." The taller of the two men stated.

"Fine, thank you. But, you see, I know Agent Washington personally. Worked with her on several cases in Washington, D. C. when I was stationed there. We'll be adding impersonating a Federal Officer to your charges.

"Have a nice day, gentlemen."

Xxx

_Coolsville, late afternoon, homeless section of city_

Shaggy and Velma led the group of friends, each carried large paper bags filled with sandwiches, chips, canned drinks. Anya and Scooby walked together, she carried a pic-nic sized chest of ice while Scooby drooled over images of sandwiches. Fred and Daphne served as rear guard; they had dropped back a few paces.

"You have any clue what Shaggy has in mind, Fred?" Daphne moved closer to Fred in order to talk without worrying about being overheard.

"Not exactly, Daphne. Shag has pulled some crazy stunts in the past but Velma seems to have settled him down. They do make a nice looking couple. We'll learn soon enough what he's got in mind."

"Speaking of having something in mind...I guess I owe you an apology."

"Whatever for, Daphne?" He glanced over at her, noticing the smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"For last night. It's kind of funny, all these years I've pursued you and when you stop and I catch you...it's me that runs away..."

"I did have that dinner with Anya..." Fred tried to give her an out but she was having none of it.

"And I used it as an excuse. We'd have had a time limit, that's true, but we had time." She stopped, giggling as her cheeks blushed. "I was about as naked as you can get without being completely nude, and I got cold feet."

"When you're ready, I'll be the one waiting. Maybe I should take you to the Casbah, we could make beautiful music together." The feel of soft breasts in his hands danced in his head like sugar plums at Christmas time.

"What about Anya, don't you two have something going on?"

"Do I detect the green eyed monster making an appearance?"

"My eyes are naturally green, Freddie. I was thinking more of that torn blouse in the back seat."

"I give you my word, all we did was share dinner, good food by the way, we talked about truth. She

told me I should marry you and kissed my cheek.

"Her blouse was ripped in the struggle with those two men. She used the coat as a screen while she changed blouses, then tossed both items into the back seat."

"She said...you should marry me? Really? Are you...?"

"Let's get this mystery solved then we'll talk. They're stopping, waiting for us. Let's see what Shaggy has in mind."

They closed the short distance quickly, gathering together. "We've been made." Fred had spotted two men while he and Daphne talked.

"Any idea who?" Shaggy asked.

"Not F. B. I. I don't think. Other than that I have no idea." Fred replied.

Before anyone could react to Fred's news, Anya's cell phone rang. Retrieving it, she checked the caller I. D.

"What do you want?" Her voice was shaken, fearful.

"Now, is that any way to talk? I was just wondering if your new lover was there with you?"

"That is none of your business! Leave me alone!" She disconnected the call.

"Well, we know how we were made. Anya, I think it's time to have a nice long truthful talk." Fred took the phone from her, slipping it into his pocket.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

The White Russian

Chapter eight: The White Russian

"Wait a minute, Fred." Velma interrupted, "We're all dependent on our technology, including me. Let me see that phone. If he can use the G. P. S. to locate us, we might be able to turn the tables."

"He'd use a one-time phone then discard it." Anya's voice shook with fear.

"I don't think he's had time to discard it. Even if he has, we'll know the general location."

"Who is he, Anya?" Fred asked, giving her a side long glance.

"My ex-husband. I told you the divorce was by mutual contempt. Now you know why."

"Was he one of the men who attacked you?" Fred added.

"No," Anya tried to smile, failed, then continued, "He wouldn't get his hands dirty that way. Plus, he would know I'd recognize him."

"But he could hire it done? Why the animosity? This seems a bit extreme even counting the divorce."

"Two things, Fred. One, he's mean when he doesn't get his way. I should have seen it before the marriage, but didn't or didn't want to. Second, he wants the White Russian for himself; good old greed. On today's market, if the connection could be made to the Tzar, it would be worth at least a quarter million dollars. He thinks I know where it is and will do anything to have it. This is the result of his not getting his way.

"This has been going on since before the divorce; it has been a nightmare."

"Got him!" Velma exclaimed. "Anya, your ex is in Rockland, the next town over."

"Is there anything you can't do with a computer?" Anya was able to raise a faint smile.

"No...okay, almost...somethings you just need a friend." She glanced at Shaggy, her cheeks blushing crimson. "Done. I can't block the calls, too many variables, but I can disable the G. P. S.."

"Can we get on with this expedition before our friends decide to do more than observe?" Fred started to move away.

They had traveled only a few blocks but it seemed they had entered a new country. They passed by small family owned shops offering everything from Russian pastries and deli items to used clothing and other discarded items looking for a second chance. They entered the two block long park, approaching a group of people gathered around a metal and wood bench.

"A present from friends to new friends." Anya stated in Russian while handing the sacks to the man who was obviously the leader.

"What information do you think this lot of Russians might have that would be of interest to you and your friends?" The head man took a sandwich, handing the sack to the other men to be passed around.

"My friends are looking for information on the White Russian." This brought on an outburst of laughter from the men.

"What do they want with those old wives tales? And what are you looking for?"

"I've been attacked, my friends are being followed, possibly by my ex-husband. I just want some peace of mind and be done with him."

The man stopped laughing, studying Anya for some long moments. "Peace of mind is a fleeting thing. Are you being followed now?"

"Yes," Anya replied. "By two men, they are watching us now." The man scratched his beard, silently glancing back over the way these new friends had come.

"Go through the alley on the side of this park; perhaps we can give you a momentary peace." His eyes indicated which alley he was speaking of, then turning to speak to his fellow Russians.

"Thank you, my new friend."

Anya translated all that had transpired, including the passage through the indicated alley. "What choice do we have?"

No viable option was forthcoming so the friends moved away from the park, entering the alleyway. Shaggy stopped to look back before disappearing into the dark alley. What he saw was two men being surrounded by the men they had just befriended. He and Scooby turned away, not wanting to know what happened to the two men, turning they vanished into the shadows.

Xxx

_The next day..._

Anya and friends were standing in front of a store front that sold televisions. As an example of their wares, several televisions were tuned to the mid-day news. The handsome news anchor reported that the search for Velma Dinkley and the group known as Mystery Inc. continued. Two men were being held in connection of this disappearance. He reported that the two men persisted in their innocence.

"Anya, whatever those men did to you, they don't deserve to be punished for something they didn't do. Shaggy, I think your idea of going off the grid has done its work. It's time we ended this mystery."

"You have this mystery solved, Velma?"

"I'm of the opinion that we're way in over our heads on this one. Sorry, Fred, but there is no trap to catch an eighty-five year old fairy tale, even if it is founded on fact. I don't know about you guys, but I'm in need of a shower and fresh clothes. I suggest we go back to our home and call the police about our abduction. Then we can decide on what to do."

The remaining men watching the group must have been stretched to the limit when Velma and the gang returned to Velma's home, then dispersed to pick up changes of clothes, shower and returned. Fred in particular didn't notice the usual tail. By the time they had reconvened, everyone was in a better mood.

They found a freshly showered Velma on the phone with the police.

"...No, Inspector, there was no kidnapping. Anything else missing? I don't think so but I'll check and let you know. Thank you for stopping those burglars so quickly and for the information. Good bye."

"That takes care of the 'kidnapping'," Velma hung up the phone, joining her guests.

"What about the 'information' you mentioned?" Fred asked, sitting next to Daphne on the sofa.

"The Inspector couldn't tell me much on an ongoing investigation but he did mention that once those two burglars that broke in here started talking it was hard to keep them quiet. Anya, I don't think you'll be bothered by your ex-husband any more. Several arrests have been made already and more are planned, including your ex."

"What about the White Russian mystery, the FBI asked us to look into?" Shaggy's stomach grumbled.

"In the past, we've had only one villain to contend with and unmask." Velma continued, "This time is completely different. Anya's ex has had her attacked and if it hadn't been for Fred, I have no clue as to what would have happened And he's still out there. There is no proof and never will be, they'll denounce it, but I believe the FBI has kept an eye on us.

"Anya, I also believe the KBG has had an interest in our travels. Why do you think the secret police would be following us when it was Russia that instigated this search for the White Russian?"

Anya took in a deep breath, releasing it in a long sigh. "Russia would see the inability to account for the remaining three pieces of the crown jewels as a defeat. Never mind the eighty-five years since they went missing; time is of little importance in so serious a matter. Velma, you're right, the KBJ will do anything, and I do mean everything, to recover the White Russian if you find it. I, too, have had the feeling they are in the background."

"This is why I vote to end this now. We can tell the FBI the truth, that all our leads ended in dead ends."

"Did you have to say 'dead ends', Velma?" Scooby crawled up into Shaggy's lap.

"I, for one, agree with Velma." Fred stated, "My working vacation ends tomorrow. I got a call and have to go back on the clock tomorrow morning. Daphne, want to go with me? I can guarantee you'll get some stories."

"Go on, Daphne, we can take care of your apartment until you decide what to do with it." Velma couldn't help but laugh at her friend.

The couple left hand in hand.

"Shaggy, would you and Scooby go to the store? We do need to replenish the fridge. And pick up some Scooby Snacks while you're gone."

"Why don't you just say you two girls want some time to talk?" He was already moving to pick up keys.

"Okay, we need time for girl talk...but we still need these items." She handed over a prepared list.

"Anya," Velma started when she was satisfied that Shaggy was gone on his errand, "a friend on the police force once said it's one thing to know something, it's a different ballgame to prove something.

"I know about a romance you have to keep quiet about. One of the reasons I think we should admit defeat is now I have a future husband and a family to think about.

"Do you have feelings for Fred?"

"Not in the sense you mean. I admit I find him handsome but even before seeing him with Daphne, I knew it wouldn't work for long. They do make a lovely couple and I wouldn't want to be the third side of a triangle."

"I have no proof but I know...the White Russian is the code name for the person holding the bracelet and the bracelet itself. The original White Russian is long dead but his descendants would have been told the truth, in a bed time story for example.

"I noticed how those people at the park respected you when you spoke their native language; not just the language but the dialect. They were ready to fight for you, a stranger. I have no idea how they knew, but they did know you for who you are: the White Russian."

"When Anastasia was murdered, she had the bracelet...her last words were for him to take the bracelet, never let the killers have it. Her lover and his family have guarded the secret for all these years." Anya rose and started to pace.

"In my opinion, I think it would be best if the White Russian and the bracelet were to disappear. If I figured it out, others will too, if they haven't already. The White Russian will never be safe otherwise."

Xxx

_three days later_

Anya took down a picture, setting it against the wall. Twirling the dial right, left and right again, she opened the safe. Extracting a box, she looked at the passport in another name. She knew Velma had been correct, she had always known this day would come at some point. She placed the box in the suitcase.

She retrieved another box, opened it and stared at a beautiful bracelet. She rubbed the dent that ran along the side, possibly from a bullet. This too went into the suitcase. Heaving a deep sigh, she closed and locked the empty safe, replacing the picture. Picking up the suitcase she left the apartment for the last time.

Hailing a cab, she handed the cabbie sixty dollars, "Forty of that is for your fare, drive around town until it's used up. The other twenty is for you if you'll drop this in the nearest trash can."

"Sure thing, lady. Easiest fare I'll have all day." The cabbie did a double take when she dropped a cell phone in the passenger seat.

The White Russian hailed a second cab, getting in the rear seat, "International Airport, please."

THE END


End file.
